


Raphael Santiago Is (Not) Sweet

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Sad Ending, Undecided Relationship(s), i wrote this at a bus stop bc there was no wifi, my brain hates me so, or - Freeform, orr, sort of, the sole reason for this is the lack of wifi at the bus stop, you would think with a puppy there it would be fluffy but No
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially Simon's inner monologue after he is shocked into an accidental confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Isn't Really the Sugar Type

You see, Raphael is not the first person that comes to mind when someone says 'soft' or 'cute' or 'nice.' In fact, most who know Raphael for more than three seconds also know that he is far better suited for sharp, dangerous whispers; complemented by leather and gold rather than honey any day. 

But, then again, _most_ does not include everyone. And it just so happens, that _most_ does not include Simon. And Simon is not one to abuse this--- he rarely dares to call Raphael 'adorable'--- not when he scowls or hisses at anyone who pisses Simon off, or when he insists that bringing Simon along with him to meetings is because it's "logical" and "best for the clan", or even when Simon wakes him up in the dead of day while getting a snack, and is softly asked to stay by a sleepy Raphael with curly hair and sluggish hands rubbing at his eyes.

Raphael is very adamant in maintaining his ‘scary vampire’ image, and Simon knows this. Simon doesn’t push for labels; Simon doesn’t show affection in front of the clan. Simon doesn’t wrap his arms around Raphael’s waist at the tailor’s when he pouts about not having his jackets on time, no matter how much he wants to (sneaking a few pics to set as his wallpaper doesn’t do much damage though). 

But--- _but_ \--- what kind of human with a beating heart (ok, vampire with an undead heart,) could keep the words from slipping out of their mouth when they are greeted by the sight of Raphael--- _Raphael_ the vicious, brooding, blood-sucking clan leader--- on his knees, clad in soft grey sweat pants, _smiling_ , and scratching the ears of a giant, panting, tail-wagging puppy? 

So yes, Simon accidentally lets the offensive words slip out. Yes, he steps one foot into the door, coming home (he didn’t know when he’d started calling the hotel “home”) after a long day with Clary's shadowhunting business again, and freezes with his jaw open. Yes, the messenger bad he was holding hits the ground with a thud. Yes, he stays there, unmoving, until Raphael looks up and sees him, eyebrows furrowing as he makes to walk over, dog lapping at his heels. 

And yes, Simon is starstruck up until the moment he sees Raphael's wide-eyes and realizes exactly _which_ dirty little words had just crawled out of his lungs. 

If only Simon hadn’t said what he said. If only Simon hadn’t been so tired. If only Raphael hadn’t been smiling. If only Raphael's didn't look so goddamn beautiful, right now Raphael would be smiling softly at him, not needing to say anything aloud for them both to know he’d missed Simon. If only Simon had made a stupid comment on the goddamn sweatpants instead, Simon would be gathering a furiously blushing and pretending to be upset Raphael into his arms, pressing kisses to his fuming forehead. Raphael would be tucked against him instead of standing too far away, gaze piercing through Simon like watching the end of the world. Raphael's lips would be serenading him with soft spanish lullabies instead of hinging on air, trapping sounds at his throat.

Now, if he’d only compared Raphael to the sun, or chocolate and roses, or a _fucking_ teddy bear--- maybe, _maybe_ Simon would have been fine. Maybe, Raphael would only be subjecting him to one soul crushing glare and then a smack on the back of his head. Maybe even sparing the compulsory eye roll since Simon didn’t comment on the pants. 

Maybe Raphael wouldn't be stepping towards him, raising a hand perfectly poised to point to the door.

Raphael hasn’t said a word, but Simon is already dying for the second time. 

Surely Raphael would tell him to leave now. His lips are parting, his glassy eyes shining Simon’s reflection like a silent confrontation. Simon couldn’t even bring himself to lie or redirect--- it could not be magicked into a "mistake" or "slip of the tongue." No amount of stuttering recoveries or loud distraction could backtrack the reality of _fact_ \--- and they both knew it.

Simon’s vocalization was irreversible trespass into the Land of No Return. Simon thinks the world has never been more cruel, because Raphael is lovely even now, unsure lips like torture. And still, Simon doesn’t want to lose the details of what surely is the last time he will see him. As penance for his crime yet like a death row inmate’s last supper, Simon tries to take in as much of Raphael while he still can. Committing every curl of his eyelashes, the curve of his cheeks, this shade of his pupils to eternal memory. Simon’s heart is violently collapsing in on itself while Raphael’s mystery puppy is in happy oblivion, tail wagging and nosing between them. Simon decides he isn't a dog person after all.

This moment, Simon decided--- this beautiful ancient boy--- would not fade to blurry nostalgia like all the other memories. Simon would clutch the scattered bones of everything that could have been and willingly drown in desolation. 

He single handedly slit his happiness at the neck; he could blame no one but himself. Because---

Because Simon was too soon. Simon rushed. Simon did not wait; Simon made a mistake--- 

Simon let his guard down for a fleeting moment, letting three simple, honest, _horrible_ syllables escape. 

In whooshing succession they’d accompanied Simon’s exhale, preceded by none other God’s name. Simon is incredulous--- he'd felt them growing like wild vines in his stomach, and his horrified mind had ran from them like they run from ghost stories; he shoved them into a jail of ribs with locks of teeth and tongue, bashing them down every time they threatened to rise past his sternum and kissed his throat.

But it was undeniable--- Simon’s heart had went and done the Unthinkable. 

Simon Lewis had fallen in love.

He’d fallen in love, not like teenagers drunk on dreams, not like middle-aged couples rushed toward chapels, not even like an addict scrambles with bloody fingers to his next fix. No, Simon had fallen in love like breathing: Simon had found Raphael like men on drowning ships found God. There would be _literal demons_ tearing through the hotel, and Simon would feel himself shifting to meet Raphael halfway, not a single fault in his step as long as his leader’s shoulder blades were pressing into his. There would be curses and poison and far too glittery wedding invites, and Simon would find himself next to Raphael, fangs or claws or wrapping paper at the ready. There would be threats on his life and unfortunate babysitting accidents and actual flying motorbikes, but fear and misery seemed to avoid visiting him at Raphael’s side.

Worse, Simon wasn’t incomplete--- he didn’t _need_ any fancily suited, fake hotel owner to survive. Simon didn’t mind his particular habits and prickly mannerisms nor wish for change. Simon didn’t have illusions about their future ; he wasn’t imagining gold rings or cradles. Simon was no fool. Raphael was simply something _good_ ; something he _chose_ , something that was far too easy to let become a part of him and make him _feel alive_. Simon knew he didn’t love a figure constructed by imagination or a grandiose fantasy, and that was the--- well, the nail in the coffin. Perhaps that made Simon the most foolish of them all.

For Simon, once seeing the ease with which Raphael handed him his Star Wars mug every evening without his asking, once hearing the dooming evidence in his own voice as he urged him to stop working and “come to bed, _Raph_ ”, once knowing his own eyes mirrored the pathetic adoration in those of our favorite warlock and shadowhunter as they stood at the altar for a second time--- there was no way then, for Simon to pretend Raphael was a casual bedmate or fleeting lover. He hadn’t even noticed his falling until he was already drowning in the vastness of his own emotions. And by then, Simon was already _utterly fucked_ :

In the midst of curses and nightmares and fatal politics, Simon had chosen the worst way to die: he put his metaphorical heart into unprepared hands. And now Simon suffers the consequences. 

Standing still, Simon waits for Raphael to speak like a self-aware sinner awaits trial on Judgement Day. He regrets not taking notes the few times he’d seen Raphael pray. The damn puppy is still circling them, and Simon wonders briefly if scooping it up into his arms and running would be enough to stop the words ensuring his death sentence. If he sinks to the ground and hides under the couch Raphael might pity him enough to postpone his heartbreak. 

Then---

Then, Raphael speaks. 

Raphael speaks, and Simon cannot bear to stand. 


	2. (and)

Raphael speaks, and Simon cannot bear to stand. 

His arm drops to hang at his side, and the words he whispers feel like daggers instead of the ax he'd expected.

Later, with his back to the hotel and hands in his pockets, Simon's white breathe in the air looks like new born ghosts anticipating his permanent lack of company. The regret on his tongue tastes sweet, like his own fresh blood.


	3. (but)

Raphael speaks, and Simon cannot bear to stand. His arm settles gently on Simon’s cheek instead of angled at the doorway, and the four syllables he murmurs against Simon’s cheek are not the ones he dreaded, but they kill him all the same. 

Raphael kisses him then, and Simon has never tasted anything sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> the other chapters are alternate endings i guess
> 
>  
> 
> also i suggest listening to Saturn-Sleeping At Last along with this for Maximum Pain
> 
> you can yell at me here: http://the-bane-ofmyexistence.tumblr.com/


End file.
